


the streets are sleeping (my love is sleeping)

by posterwall



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Drabble, M/M, Season/Series 05, also i wrote this at about 2 am so be nice, can you tell i dont like the blade of marmalade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:04:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posterwall/pseuds/posterwall
Summary: keith misses lance while at the BOM//i wanted more keith in season 5!! how's he doing?? is he eating enough???





	the streets are sleeping (my love is sleeping)

His old team would call him by his name. It seems weird to him, to see his name as a foreign word, but Keith had recently realized that he doesn’t really hear his own name anymore. Kolivan calls him Keith, but most of the other blades don’t bother with names. It’s always “hey you” or if you want to be formal about it, #1654. The door of the barracks where he sleeps is labeled with “#1640-1680”. He fits in the range. Every blade member has an ID number, it’s easy to keep track of them that way. With so many soldiers, all meant to be shrouded in anonymity, names are just another way for the enemy to track them down. Keith didn’t mind at first. The solitude of the Blade was refreshing after living in close quarters with voltron for his first few months in space. His bed gives him a clear view of the small window in the barracks, exposing stars and planets beyond the thick glass. He gets assigned to missions and he follows orders. There’s no time for friendly relationships in the Blade of Marmora. Keith thought he’d prefer it this way. That isolation would make him stronger.

The stars served as a comfort at first. It helped to know that his former teammates might be looking at a similar view from their own, albeit much larger, window in the observatory of the castle. Maybe even thinking about him as he thought of them. As he progressed in his training, fought through more missions, lost more teammates, the endless blackness of space became more of a gateway to becoming trapped in his thoughts than anything else. He tries not to look at the stars much anymore. Keith can’t exactly pinpoint when being trapped in his thoughts turned into a bad thing. Faces of fallen blade members flash through his mind and he can’t seem to get rid of them as easily as the others do. Sometimes he thinks about leaving. He knows this place isn’t good for him. Eating at his human emotions till he’ll eventually become an empty husk, capable of erasing old friends from his thoughts like ID numbers from a computer. These thoughts are quickly pushed aside by new assignments. Stopping the galra is more important than anything, especially his trivial worries of loneliness, or the strange empty feeling that claws at him when he lays in bed at night, surrounded by silence.

One of Keith’s duties as the bridge between voltron and the Blade is to stand by Kolivan as he meets with the other members of the coalition during their weekly holo-conferences. Keith focuses on standing tall and staring into the bright flash of the camera, doing his best to look like a good soldier and draw attention away from himself. He never speaks during the conferences. Being a little bored during those 20 minute meetings is better than having to interact with his old team. They look like a family, standing a little too close to each other in their matching armor. He tries especially hard not to look at Lance. Lance, whose face is dotted with freckles that remind Keith of the stars he tries not to look at. Who climbed into Keith’s bed at night when he got homesick.

Keith wonders whose bed he climbs into now. Whose door he knocks on sheepishly and gives a tired smile to as he tucks himself into the corner of their bed. They used to knot their legs together under the covers and pretend to be asleep as they lay close in the early hours before breakfast. Keith would watch Lance, face to the wall, tan back rising and falling. His heart would clench and he would ignore it.

The harsh light of the castle coupled with the poor quality of the holo-cam doesn’t wash out Lance’s features at all. Deep blue eyes and expressive lips focused on Shiro as he says something about Lotor. His red bayard rests at his hip, clashing with blue armor. Keith held that bayard once, but there’s no room for him on the castleship anymore. He wonders if they think about him at all. He’s become quite insignificant in the fight against the galra. One out of a million just like him. Before, he was the red paladin, the only person able to pilot a piece of the most powerful weapon in the universe. Now he is #1654, who is less important than a gigabyte of galra intel. _Knowledge or death._


End file.
